


Breathe Words Upon My Skin

by ponderinfrustration



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Far too many kisses, Kisses, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderinfrustration/pseuds/ponderinfrustration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisses are enough. Soft, gentle, near-silence punctuated by slow, shuddering breaths and choked gasps. Kisses are their own form of worship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Words Upon My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Title this time from the Alabama song 'Feels So Right'

Kisses are enough. Soft, gentle, near-silence punctuated by slow, shuddering breaths and choked gasps. Kisses are their own form of worship, pressed delicately to the ridge of a collarbone, or careful sucking of a bared nipple. Calculated, tongue flicking tenderly, praising skin so finely stretched across such a finely crafted man. Praising such a unique art form.

The kisses extend lower, as they are wont to do. A trail extending from chest to hips, exploring the canyons of intercostal spaces, tongue nuzzling into belly button, lips tugging at the slender crease of a hip-bone, mouthing half-murmured words of pleasure and wonder.

Then the descent. The delicate, almost-fragile skin of the inner thigh, breathing in the heady, musky scent, excitement mounting before the denouement. Lips pressed to balls, creeping up the length of his penis before taking it whole. A practised ease, groundwork laid, familiar yet different every time, violinist fingers tugging on short, blond hair, pressing in closer, hips thrusting harder.

Release. Limp fingers slipping away, falling to fine linen. Lips pulling back, pressing kisses to sweat-soaked skin, torso, chest, throat to other lips, lips soft enough to spit cutting words, but not now. Never now. Never these sacred moments when they are incapable of words, only quiet moans.  
The doctor wraps himself around his detective, content to kiss him and hold him close, protect him as he always has. Always will.

(Reciprocation, when it comes, is well worth the wait. Well worth this. And he wouldn't trade this for anything.)


End file.
